Memory
by Simon920
Summary: Dick Grayson asks Garth a question about his past. Warning: Fairly mild slash.


Title: Memory  
Author: Simon  
Pairing: Dick/Garth-NOT Sea and Sky  
Rating: PG-13  
Summary: One of those late night talks  
Warnings: Slash...be warned, matey's  
Disclaimers: These guys aren't mine, they don't belong to me, worst  
luck, so don't bother me.  
Feedback: Hell, yes. Baeden2020y...  
  
I have no idea where this came from—maybe because my grandfather was  
an undertaker? You got me, but it just sort of popped into my head.  
  
Memory  
  
"You must have some. Garth, come on. Tell me one."  
  
"I really don't remember much from when I was that young. Honestly,  
Rob, I just don't."  
  
A sigh, half disbelieving and knowing that he'd tell if he  
could. "Then tell me your earliest memory. You were, what? Three?  
Four?"  
  
"...I..."  
  
"Your oldest memory of something good. Please?"  
  
Garth gave a half smile of resignation. They had just made love,  
again, for the third time tonight and were at the point of just  
wanting to be close before sleep. It was the time past sex and when  
their sharing was beyond just the physical—not that the physical  
side of things wasn't better than either of them had thought  
possible. This was one of the few times they were together when Dick  
would be serious, wanting to ask how he really felt about this or  
that, wanting to know about his past or his hopes for the future.  
Richard would drop it if he asked him, but they had no secrets, not  
really and it didn't matter. It was fine. His memory was sketchy  
from when he was small, just bits and pieces of this and that.  
Fragments, half memory and half dream sort of things, partial ideas  
that drift through your mind and disappear before they're even fully  
formed.  
  
But there was one...  
  
They settled back down together, Garth on his back, head on the  
piled pillows, Dick against him, arms holding one another, stroking  
absentmindedly.  
  
"I guess I was about five, maybe six, and Thafor..."  
  
"Thafor?"  
  
"He was my tutor at the palace."  
  
"Have I met him?  
  
"No."  
  
"Is he still there?"  
  
"Yes—do you want to hear this?"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"We were in Shayeris for some reason. I don't know why we were  
there, but Arthur was busy with some officials—maybe they were  
opening relations between the cities, it was around that time—  
anyway, I was along and Thafor got me up one morning and told me  
that he wanted to show me something."  
  
"Did they know you were from there, that you're their legal king?"  
  
"I think some must have known or at least suspected. I think Arthur  
knew, but he never said anything. Thafor knew."  
  
"How did he find out?"  
  
"Rob..."  
  
"Sorry. The whole story about your background has always intrigued  
me, though. It's so—amazing."  
  
That was an understatement and there were volumes even Dick had no  
idea of. Maybe someday Garth would tell him about...He pulled Dick's  
hand up to his mouth, kissing the knuckles.  
  
"I got up and I probably had something to eat but I remember that he  
wanted to get going. We finally were ready and he took me out of  
wherever we were staying and we went, just the two of us, swimming  
along until we got to this low white building on the edge of what I  
now know was the palace garden."  
  
"The palace in Shayeris?"  
  
"Um-hmm. The building's not that big, maybe fifty feet on a side and  
it was just one story. There were a lot of flowers and I remember  
thinking that it was pretty there."  
  
Dick turned to look up at Garth's face. "There are gardens and  
flowers underwater?"  
  
"Of course there are." He was still surprised by how little landsmen  
knew about Atlantis, even Dick after all this time. "Why wouldn't  
there be?"  
  
"I guess I never thought about it."  
  
"There was a big door and Thafor had a couple of keys. That  
impressed me, that he needed three keys to open the door." Dick  
smiled at him to continue, he loved hearing Garth talk. "We went in  
and there were lights but they were pretty subdued. You could get  
around alright, but it had a feel to it almost like a temple. I  
remember being sort of cowed by it and being afraid to talk out loud  
so I whispered."  
  
"What was the place?"  
  
"He told me that it was my family's crypt and that my relatives, my  
ancestors and my father were in there."  
  
"Jesus. Who takes a little kid to a place like that? And how did he  
know who your family is? I thought that was a big secret."  
  
"It was—from me. Obviously Thafor knew and, like I said, I'm pretty  
sure that Arthur did, too."  
  
"Wait, why do you think Arthur knew back then? He never said  
anything until you confronted him about it when you were like  
eighteen or something."  
  
"I think he knew simply because of the education I received. I was  
trained from the time he found me for diplomacy—learning languages  
and political science, history, world religions and all. He had to  
have known. I figured later that he took me along with him that trip  
so that the local worthies could check me out." He hugged Dick a  
little tighter. "Do you want to hear this?"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Anyway, it wasn't disgusting or frightening in any way. It was very  
clean, quiet, well tended. There weren't bodies lying out or  
anything. There were niches in the walls that held a lot of coffins—  
all white stone, marble, I guess. And in the main rooms were there  
pedestals, all white, holding more tombs. They all had a name, or  
sometimes two, carved on them with the dates. Thafor told me a  
little about some of them, what they were like, who they were, how  
they'd died. This one was a great ruler, this one was mad. This one  
was a fool, this one was a saint.' That sort of thing. He walked me  
over to a small side room with two pedestals in it. One had a  
coffin, another one of the big stone things on it and he  
said, That's your father and the one next to it is for you when the  
time comes.' My name was—is—carved there with the date of my birth.  
All it needs is the date of my death and me. It's there waiting now."  
  
"What did you do?"  
  
"The thing about my father went right by me at the time and I  
remember that I hopped up on the pedestal with my name, the one for  
me and sat there for a couple of minutes looking around at all the  
others."  
  
"Didn't that squeek you out or something? God, you were just a kid—  
that's a little young to be staring at your destiny."  
  
Garth gave a small laugh, a happy one. "No, you don't understand. In  
that moment I realized something that I've never forgotten—it was a  
moment of epiphany, I guess. I suddenly knew and was absolutely  
certain that no matter what I do, or don't do, no matter how well or  
poorly I do it, whether I'm a paragon or a murderer—it doesn't  
matter. I'll still end up in a marble box in that room, just like  
all the others."  
  
Dick turned, pulling himself up on his elbows and looking down at  
Garth."...But, of course it matters how you live your life. Jesus, of  
course it frigging matters."  
  
"Not in the long run it doesn't, Robbie, just while I'm here."  
  
"But..."  
  
"No, no, listen to me. Alright, I know it makes a difference in an  
immediate way—it makes a difference as to whether or not I have  
friends or am personally respected and all of that, sure, but no  
matter what—the end is still the same." Garth looked up at him. "I  
think it made it a lot easier for me to accept a lot of things."  
  
"That's warped. In fact, that's fucked, it really is."  
  
"No it isn't. I know that I'm just one in a long line. There were  
all those people before me and there will be more after me. I just  
play my part while I'm here. I think it made me sort of fatalistic."  
He reached up to kiss Dick. "I go back there every couple of years.  
It puts things in perspective for me."  
  
"What? This, too, shall pass'?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
Dick moved so that he was propped up on one elbow, looking down at  
Garth with their hands still laced together, their bodies pressed  
comfortably together. "You know I thought you'd tell me about a  
birthday party or something like that."  
  
"We don't celebrate birthdays."  
  
"Or something." He kissed Garth goodnight. It was late and they were  
both tired. God, there was so much about Garth tat he still didn't  
know. He shifted the pillow; lay down to get ready for sleep.  
Tomorrow was Sunday, they could sleep in. That would be nice.  
  
He had just about drifted off when, "Rob?" It was soft, in case he  
had fallen asleep.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"There's room for two there, that's how they're designed. You know,  
for a King and his Consort. Would you—you know, would you want to be  
with me there?"  
  
He spoke without thinking. "I think my parents have room where they  
are and Bruce said that..."  
  
"...Of course.' A pause. "Good night, Rob."  
  
Buried underwater in some fancy royal crypt? That was weird. Buried  
as a royal consort? What did that make him, a queen? Talk about your  
bad jokes.  
  
But being with Garth?  
  
Dick really wasn't sure what he believed in and he didn't spend all  
that much time thinking about it. His gut told him that when you  
died you were dead and that was it but his Catholic upbringing told  
him that wasn't quite the case. He hadn't decided which way he  
leaned on this one. He knew Garth believed in some kind of  
afterlife, though they'd never really talked about it.  
  
Underwater with Garth.  
  
Forever.  
  
Buried with Garth and letting anyone who cared a hundred years or a  
thousand years down the road that they were that important to each  
other and that they would still be together even then.  
  
Damn.  
  
In fact it sounded pretty good.  
  
"You still awake?"  
  
"Hmm."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Garth squeezed his hand. "Good."  
  
6/11/04


End file.
